by Alan Janney
Throughout the day, Katie is chattering in my ears and I can’t tune her out. He’s in jail. Just sitting there. Poor thing. He’s probably bored. He’s playing a bizarre game with me, and he’s winning. Somehow he’s in jail and he’s winning. Because I can’t think straight. Kayla wants to chat after the meeting but I storm out, frustrated with the world. Chase won’t win this game. I’m not visiting him.
I eat dinner in my office and work on the Stanford paper.
I should go visit him. He’s probably lonely. Maybe bring him a book. Give him a nice back rub?
I’m not visiting him.
Yes, I want to.
I’ve got too much to do. Leave me alone.
But he’s so sweet.
No.
Could be fun to lock myself in with him.
That might be fun, actually…
I stand, spilling books and papers. Stop! Why can’t I concentrate? He’s still winning, dammit. Madness. This is madness. Calm down. Calm down, Carmine. After ten minutes of pacing and stretching, I sit back down, ready to finish this stupid essay.
My phone rings.
“What!” I shout into it.
“We need your help at the jail, Queen Carmine.”
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a…big guy…trying to get in? Like a giant? With an axe?”
Of course he is.
* * *
The LAPD Detention Center is a blocky grey building near City Hall. I Leap my way there. Dalton will arrive soon in his truck. The Priest and his big mouth, that’s the problem. He made too big a circus over this phony capture and everyone within fifty miles knows which jail the Outlaw is in.
A small squad of Law Keepers is inside the lobby, barricading a stairwell. They appear…disheveled. Like someone threw them around. Without power, the building is stuffy and dark, especially since the sun is going down. Surfaces are coated with a five-month layer of dust, scuffed by recent footprints.
“Where is he?”
The Law Keeper says, “Upstairs, Queen Carmine. We don’t know how to stop him.”
“What’s he want?”
“To kill the Outlaw.”
I groan. “How precisely masculine and idiotic. Where is Chase Jackson?”
“We’ve got him housed in the basement. There’s still a guard down there.”
“Okay. Everyone out. I can do this. I’ll deal with the giant.”
Most of the Law Keepers obey immediately. Mutants are creepy. Their Overseer asks, “What will you do? He can’t be stopped. He’s Infected.”
“I’m going to ask nicely.”
“We shot him,” he says.
“You shot him? What happened?”
“It didn’t work.”
“Out. Out. Get out.”
Doors slam closed behind them and I’m left alone in the lobby. “Tank!” I yell at the stairwell, and my voice journeys up the stairs and down empty halls. “Tank, you can’t be here!”
From deep in the building’s upper levels comes a rumbling voice. “Where is he?”
“That doesn’t matter. You need to leave.”
“I haven’t seen my old pal Pajamas since he threw me off a boat last March. I just want to say Hi.”
“No. Go away. I was in the middle of homework.”
He comes stomping heavily down the stairs. Such a big guy. Axe in his right fist. “Homework?”
“Yes. Homework. I’m easily your smartest ex-girlfriend. Now go.”
“Homework. That’s kinda hot.”
“No it’s not. It’s frustrating. There’s an absolute dearth of normal days around here and finally I find two hours to work and you show up. Plus, Walter is coming, and we’re training Guardians to fight, and…just go.”
“Where is Chase?”
I shrug, arms crossed. “He’s not here.”
“Yes he is. I smell him.”
Me too.
Shut up, Katie. Tank begins to walk past me. I put my hand on his chest —his broad, beefy chest— and stop him. He asks, “He down this way?”
“Leave.”
He wraps an arm around my waist and hoists me over his shoulder, fireman style facing backwards. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s find him.”
“Stop! Put me down. Why does everyone think they should throw me on their shoulder? Tank!”
He ducks through a security door. I grab the reinforced metal doorframe and hold tight with a hand on either side. We’re jerked to a halt.
“Tank, this is ludicrous. We’re grownups. I don’t have time for this.”
“Let go.”
“You let go.”
He strains forward. I tighten my grip, digging fingers into the metal.
“Queen Carmine?” A voice I don’t know. And I can’t see him while I hang stretched between a door and a giant. Must be the guard stationed at Chase’s cell, come to inspect the commotion. This is mortifying.
“What?” I shout.
“What…what are your orders?”
“Nothing. You can go. I’ll handle this.”
“Negative, ma’am. You need help. I’ll call the Overseer.”
Tank chuckles. “Yeah. Call the Overseer.”
I snap, “I just spoke to your Overseer. Now go outside and wait.”
“Well…okay. Yes ma’am.” I can’t see him until he’s scooting nervously around Tank. He’s a big guy, probably twenty-five, buzz cut, former military perhaps, and he’s dumbfounded. He ducks under me to go through the door because I won’t let go of it. I smile at him. My face is red from hanging upside down. He says, “You want me to—”
“Just go.”
“S’okay,” Tank rumbles. “Me and her are kinda an item.”
“No. We are not an item. Don’t tell people that.”
Tank lurches forward. Metal screams and the doorframe twists and breaks off the wall. Now I’m dragging it, like an idiot, down the hall past temporary detention cells. “Where is he?”
“Put me down.”
“No.”
I drop the metal and reach as far as I can. My fingers snatch the back of Tank’s pant leg. With one mighty heave, I haul his leg backwards. It bends at the knee and I wrap my arms around his ankle, trapping it. He’s standing on one foot and I won’t release the other.
“Katie…”
“That’s not my name.”
He hops to keep his balance. “Don’t make me do this. You ain’t gonna like it.”
“Put. Me. Down.”
He leans his axe against the wall and smacks me on the butt. “Always loved this butt.”
This is so stupid. I’m so mad. But I don’t release. I can’t let him go kill a prisoner with an axe.
His fingers curl under the waistline of my leggings. “You sure you ain’t gonna let go? Because you’re about to lose your pants.”
“Tank. No.”
He stretches the fabric downwards. If I had to guess, I’d estimate that he just exposed 20% of my rear.
“Oooh. You’re tan everywhere? Tell ya what. Imma take you back outside. And you’re gonna moon all your little acolytes.”
“You don’t even know what that word means.” I blow hair from my eyes, a futile gesture.
“Carried a 3.9 GPA my senior year, baby.”
“That’s it?”
He tugs again, further exposing me. I want to scream and laugh and stab him, all at once. He says, “You been working out. Let go my ankle or I’ll pull your pants down to your knees.”
I release his leg and jam ten razor-sharp fingernails into his back. His skin is tough hide but I penetrate deep enough. His whole body flexes and he shouts in surprise, a noise so violent it shakes windows. Given enough room to move, I twist at the waist and bring my knee into his face. Hard enough to bust concrete. If he wasn’t Infected it could’ve caved his skull.
He collapses. I fall with him. One big writhing heap on the floor. I go for his axe. He grabs my calf and hauls me back. Somehow, someway, my mouth is on his. Kissing. Kissin
g?!
I pull back and climb to my feet. “You kissed me?!”
“No way, babe. That was all you.”
He gets up, holding his jaw. I plant a foot into his chest and kick, my pink Sauconys making solid connection with his ribs. He stumbles and falls into a small detention cell and I slam the heavy door. It locks.
“Hah! I win!”
The door explodes outwards, wrenched from its hinges and bolt. He charges through like a bull, catches me with his shoulder, and we crash through the opposite wall. Dust and debris splash across the security break room. I’m up in a flash and I tip over a tall Pepsi vending machine. It’s heavy and it’s going to land on him and it’s going to hurt. He catches it with one hand and trips me with the other. With the same one hand, he displaces the colossal machine onto the floor with a crash. One hand?!
I crawl into the hall but he reaches me. Our bodies collide. He’s everywhere. This time he’s definitely kissing me. I didn’t initiate. He stands, his arms encircling my waist. It’s hot and my feet aren’t touching the floor. My arms wrap around his neck.
I’m such a whore. Look at me. A hot mess.
“Okay, enough,” I mumble against his mouth, and untangle my arms from his neck. “No more.”
“Why?”
“You need to go.”
He drops me. “Come with.”
“This was an…astonishing lack of discipline on my part.” I’m scooping my hair back in place and trying not to pant. “I got caught up in memories, nothing more.”
“You’re lonely. Me too.”
“You’re the only person I remember, Tank. And it messes with my brain. But…this can’t happen. A lot of people are depending on me and I need to be focused.”
He presses his gloved hand against my cheek. “You have a new life, and I’m only a memory. But I’m stuck with the same life and still think you’re sexy as hell.”
“Tank,” I groan and close my eyes. Focus. I need to focus. I will not allow loneliness to dictate my actions. I’m not pathetic. I’m not weak.
He and I are hit by an unpleasant odor at the same moment. A whiff from the vents. Actually it’s not that unpleasant. More of a rich texture…
“The Cheerleader,” he realizes.
“I smell her too. She smells like…”
“Gasoline.” His face has gone white and beads of sweat form at his thick hairline. “She’s here.”
“Let’s find her and ship her out of New LA. We can take her together.”
“Not in this tiny place. The only way is to catch her by surprise.” He turns and pulls me towards the exit. He’s panicking and there’s real trauma behind his eyes. I resist but my shoes slide across the floor’s scrim. He says, “We gotta split. Pronto.”
I contort free of his iron grip. “She’s here for Chase, and he’s vulnerable. I have to get him.”
“You need to forget about that runt.”
“I will not abandon him. Not to that lunatic.”
He reaches for me again. “You don’t get it, kid. She’s Satan. A demon. Come. With me. Now.”
“Tank. Go. Just go. You’re about to hyperventilate. I get it. She messed you up.”
He’s stuck. He loathes the idea of abandoning me. However the burnt portion of his face has begun to twitch.
A voice drifts through the air conditioning vents. A pleasant but strained sound, and the effect is remarkably similar to a haunted house. She’s humming. Tank’s knees nearly give out.
“She’s above us,” he says. “Oh god.”
“Go!” I locate the stairs and plunge deeper into the detention center. Only two electric lanterns give off light in this dark dungeon. The air is thick and hot, but fortunately Chase is in the first cell. It has a small window at the ceiling. The glass is cracked (maybe he did it?), otherwise it’d be unbearable. He’s reclining on a cot, reading a novel. I knock softly on the security door’s window.
“Yes?” He doesn’t look up.
I knock again.
“Be with you in a moment.”
“Chase,” I hiss.
“This chapter is almost over. Three more pages.”
“Chase. Let me in.”
He doesn’t reply, other than to calmly turn a page of the paperback.
I whisper, “The Cheerleader is here and I don’t want her to know we’re in the basement.”
That gets his attention. He sits up, novel forgotten. “Hannah Walker is here? You’ve seen her?”
“Let me in.”
“Let you in?” He inspects me like I’m insane. “Just how do you think cell doors work?”
“But I don’t have a key.”
“And you think they left it with me?”
Argh. I’m not thinking straight. The gasoline aroma is too intense. What do I do. Tank broke a door so maybe I can also. He’s Infected, considerably stronger than I am, but it’s worth a shot. I take a couple steps backwards.
“Wait.” His voice comes muffled through the partition. His door shudders and the exterior handle pops off. He jams his fist into the opening, rending the metal outwards, and twists. A click and it swings open on oiled hinges.
Unbelievable. “You could get out whenever you want.”
He winks. “But you’re worth the wait.”
“Why does the Cheerleader smell like that?”
“Long story. Read the articles from February of 2018.”
We’re whispering. Somehow his hand has slid into mine, and the skin contact immediately lessens my joint aches. He’s morphine. That didn’t happen with Tank. I ask, “Is she here to execute you?”
“Her brain suffered more than most. I imagine she’d treat me the way Lennie treats puppies.”
“So she’s violent and obsessed.”
“Essentially.”
Chase just eluded to Of Mice and Men. I love John Steinbeck.
“Lennie? You eluded to Of Mice and Men,” I say.
“Correct. Did Katie enjoy that reference?”
“She did.”
“And as a result, you’re aroused?”
“I don’t want to discuss it. Let’s go.”
We hurry to the stairwell on silent feet. He stops me at the base and peers upwards. I’m almost gagging on gas fumes, and I wipe perspiration from my eyelids and lashes. He points with a finger, and mouths the words, She’s at the top of the staircase.
Holy cow, why am I terrified of this chick? I’m so scared I’m on the verge of hysteria.
We turn and flee the way we came. There has to be another exit, but this dark basement is a maze.
“In here.” We return to his cell. His muscles bunch and swell and he rips the window frame from the wall. Chunks of concrete break off, and he yanks out long segments of rebar. The Cheerleader couldn’t help but hear that tumultuous racket. I leap to the opening and slither through to freedom and fresh air. He gets stuck. I pulverize the concrete and pull lumps free like a woman possessed. If she grabs him from behind I’ll faint.
He asks, “Why do you smell like Tank?”
“He came here to chat with you. The Cheerleader ran him off.”
“I kinda miss that idiot. How’s he look?”
Like a rugged sexy woodsman?
I grab Chase’s arms and heave. He slides through.
We run.
* * *
Jerome is our Detention Overseer. He’s waiting out front with the other guards, useless shotgun in his grip. They’re surprised to see me emerge from behind the building. I order the guards home for the night but pull Jerome after me.
Jerome watches his sentries trudge off and he says, “But…Queen Carmine, the Cheerleader is still in the building.”
“Yeah? And what do you plan to do about that?”
“We could…I mean, there’s a proper response and protocol, which…I guess…”
“For the present, if the Cheerleader is here, we give her space. Got it? No one approaches her.”
“Yes ma’am.”
I haul him by
his sleeve around the building to where Chase Jackson waits, reading his book. “Jerome, this is the Outlaw. He’s a substantial pain in the butt. He can escape from our custody but he refuses to.”
The Outlaw shrugs, and he possesses the temerity to look modest about it. “I don’t make the laws.”
“Considering it’s late and we’re both tired, stash him at the Ritz tonight. Hotel room or jail cell, he could escape either way. So. Whatever. Find rooms at the Ritz. He doesn’t need a guard. Get some sleep.”
“Yes ma’am.” Jerome appears to be as confused as I feel.
“And you.” I punch Chase in the shoulder. It hurts. He smiles that wide smile, great teeth, faint dimple, and my stomach flip flops. “It’d make my life a lot easier if you’d escape.”
“You kicked me out of LA. The only way I can stay is if I’m incarcerated. Also, if you’re putting me in a suite, can you send up a masseuse? My back is killing me. But I require hot blondes.”
“No. No girls. Not even girl sentries. I’m the only girl you get to see. And I’m angry with you. If the Night Guardians catch your scent then you’ll be attacked.”
“I’m becoming adept at bottling it up for longer periods of time. Right Jerome? High five.” Chase holds up his hand. Jerome is confused and wishing he was anywhere else other than listening to a pair of idiots bickering.
“If the Cheerleader finds you again, I’m not helping. Good night, you twit.” As I turn to go, Katie Lopez surges into my muscles. I almost kiss Chase goodnight. A purely instinctive response, but not mine. We’re playing tug-of-war, and I force Katie away.
One of these days, Katie, you’re going to get me into a lot of trouble.
* * *
Becky is in my bed when I return. The Devotee was smart enough to let her in. Evidently she’s enduring a nightmare, based on the whimpering and kicking. I should continue my Stanford essay but instead I lay beside her and stroke her hair. I don’t know the cure. I don’t know how to fix her mind. Or anything else.
